


Enjoy The Silence

by Lokisgame



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship/Love, Post-Episode: s03e17 Pusher, X-Files OctoberFicFest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-18 19:23:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12394566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokisgame/pseuds/Lokisgame
Summary: The horizon paled on the other side of the house, they fell asleep again, waiting for words to come back.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Daggoo for being my sweet Pusher.

Arriving at the summer house of his parents felt like stepping through a window in time. Nothing changed. The gravel driveway crunched under his shoes, the house was dark as expected, but not abandoned. Mom came once a month to clean up and air out the rooms in hope he might someday want to come back, and she was right, in a way. Here they were, surrounded by the sound of invisible seabirds and waves, breathing in the salty scent of ocean and nights of peace. It wasn't the house from which Sam was taken, so it wasn't tainted with too many bad memories, the worst being how they in time stopped coming here as a family, too little space for that much grief.  
Stretching and breathing deeply he looked around, while Scully, reached back inside the car to pop the trunk. Mulder tapped the rooftop twice and tossed her the keys to the front door with a smile, then took the groceries from the back seat and bags from the trunk. They didn't need much, just some coffee and breakfast food, other than that they could eat in town; tourists they were. He smuggled a few books and case files inside his bag, but given their silent agreement, Scully didn't mind. 

_The house was cleaned, beds made with fresh sheets_ , said a note from his mother waiting on the kitchen counter, and he chuckled reading it. Scully caught up to him and looked over his shoulder, curious to see what amused him. Teena thought he was bringing a lover. Scully chuckled, rolling her eyes and went for the patio doors to let in some of the sweet night air.  
_No mom, not a lover, someone who's much more than that._ He left the food on the counter, putting the note in his pocket and followed. The night was young, not even 9pm, but after a week they had, he wanted to show Scully around first, in case she wanted to turn in early.  
One hand on her shoulder to catch her attention, she turned and smiled at him, uncrossing her arms as they went back inside. Mulder showed her the first floor bathroom, cabinets where his mom kept towels, then opened the doors to the bedrooms, letting her pick whichever she wanted. Be it intuition or psychic ability, she chose Samantha's old room and he quietly sighed with relief. He never liked to sleep in that room, to many memories, even if all the walls were repainted and the furniture was different. He set down her suitcase in her room and left her to make herself comfortable.  
The night was young so he found glasses and poured the wine. 

Breeze from the ocean did wonders for Mulder’s sleeping habits. Scully found him half an hour later, asleep in a deck chair, half empty wine glass on the floor, arms folded around himself for warmth. A blanket waited on her chair, but she wasn’t that cold, so she drapped it over him and pulled the sweater tighter around herself. Picking up the glass he poured for her, she settled in, listening to Mulder’s low snore mingled with waves and birds and calm night she rarely found in D.C. 

A candle, she found in the kitchen, burned almost half way down before he woke up with a start, disoriented, searching around, frantic. Scully rested one hand on his shoulder and he finally focused on her, calming down, he even remained silent, settling for a sleepy smile. Candle light quivered, painting eerie shadows over the small round coffee table between them, the lights inside the house were dark. He wanted to ask for time, but let it go, untangling himself from the blanket.  
It felt simple to be together; leaving words and their proffesional selves at the office, few hours ago. Scully felt less like a doctor and an agent, and more like a friend, when she watched him struggle, hiding her smile behind the edge of her glass.   
A few tugs and pulls later, Mulder prevailed and draped the still warm fabric over her, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand, quick and playful, paired with a flirty grin.   
He did that, she was used to it, well not really, but that's what she told herself, because at the moment, it was easier than figuring out why she liked it. Setting her glass on the table, she scooted down to see the sky, hoping to catch a falling star. She could see the light in the bathroom turn on, heard the shower start through the open window, and because there was no rule against it, Mulder began singing in the shower, shamelessly on-key. 

They went to bed sometime later, a nod of goodnight as she clutched a copy of Moby Dick she found in living room bookcase. She read with the windows open, thinking about Mulder and his outrageous paperbacks. He recently developed a taste for stories about sea monsters, and she saw him read those in airport lounges and on planes, promising bodily harm if he wouldn't stop reading excerpts to her out loud.  
Slowly, time lost it’s meaning, her head touched the starched linen pillowcase, grateful it wasn't another ratty motel. Waves crashed against the shore, rocking her to sleep as they did when she was a kid. She dreamt of her father that night, and it was a good dream, a first in over a week of recurring nightmare, one she feared to even voice out loud, for the horror was still too fresh, the images too vivid in her mind. 

It wasn't dawn that woke her up with a start sometime later, it was a shout. A frightened scream on the other side of the wall. On her feet in a second, gun in hand, she listened intently. No sounds of struggle, Mulder screamed again, a little unnatural, and her three seconds for assessment were up. She cracked the door open, looking out for signs of struggle, saw none. The door to Mulder's room was closed. Moonshine that traveled around the house and now peeked inside through the window at the end of the hall, gave her only light to go by. Hand on the doorknob, she took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Nothing. No one there but Mulder, sheets tangled around him like vines, as he tossed in his sleep.  
"Scully RUN!" He gasped, jaw clenched in an expression of pain and fear, and the sight broke her heart all over again. She lowered her gun and left it on the dresser against the far wall from the bed, as far away from his reach as possible, then circled the bed and laid down next to him. Mulder whimpered, whispering her name again.  
This is what they tried to escape, that's why they vowed to stay silent. Words almost killed them both that day. They needed peace and quiet, they needed silence. Scully rested one open palm on his chest, pressing gently enough to wake, but not startle. Still he gasped and his hand grabbed hers, expecting danger, but finding shelter. He saw her in the dim light and breathed out a heavy sigh, holding on to her hand like it was a lifeline.  
She could feel his heart racing, racing, slowing, growing calm. His t-shirt felt damp, body feverishly hot, but he didn't let go. Tears rolled from the corner of his eye, and he wiped at them, angrily. He didn't speak, just held on to her hand.   
Scully moved closer, sharing the warmth and silent reassurance, until gradually his grip loosened, simply covering her hand with his, keeping it on his chest, rising and falling rhythmically. Every other wave outside brought his inhale.  
The horizon paled on the other side of the house while they fell asleep again, waiting for words to become safe again.


	2. Chapter 2

Mulder woke up, slightly disoriented by the unusualness of the bed, the white sheets, and a hand underneath his. Memories fell back into place like dust motes scattered while sweeping away sleep, and he sank back onto pillows, smiling. A glance to his left revealed Scully, asleep, lips gently parted, her breathing even and deep, red hair spilled over the pillow and cheek, powder blue silk pj's, half hidden by the sheet. He never remembered her climbing underneath it, but it didn't matter really.  
He read a poem once, but didn't quite understand it’s meaning, until now.  
_Let me put it this way..._  
Mulder never thought he'd feel that way about anyone, yet there he was, not daring to move or make a sound, for fear he might wake her. All he could do was watch the strand of hair across her cheek, wondering how it must be bothering her. If he'd move, really gently, he could make it go away, make her rest a little easier... he reached and there, done, she didn't even stir.  
Dim light in the room grew brighter, it was going to be a fine day. Ideas started to form in his mind, but first they needed coffee, and he needed the bathroom. It was time to get up. 

Scully woke up to quiet music coming from downstairs and blue sky winking at her from behind the wind ruffled curtains. It felt good to sleep in. She couldn't remember when was the las time she did. At home, she usually woke up to a list of chores neglected over the week scrolling beneath her eyelids, clean up, groceries, pick up dry cleaning, no matter how beautiful a morning it might be.  
But today, she wasn't home. The sheets were clean, the clock showed almost 9am and there was music in the house.  
It's was strange how natural it all felt. She wasn't alone, but she didn’t feel like a guest either. She didn't have to put her game face on, get dressed and be the most professional field agent that ever walked this earth. She could sigh and stretch, run her hand over his side of the bed, and feeling it cool, not panic, because she sensed Mulder everywhere, in tiny sounds and echoes bouncing around the house. She felt like this when she stayed at her mother's sometimes. Calm, safe, relaxed. And famished. 

She made the bed, splashed her face with water, grabbed a light robe from her room and went downstairs.  
Scent of freshly brewed coffee and toast, the sight of bacon waiting by the stove, and Mulder still in pj's, carrying plates out to the deck, barefoot and disheveled. It was most likely the best way to wake up on a Saturday morning.  
He smiled, nodding at the table and pulled out a chair for her. There already was some fruit laid out, glasses and juice waiting in a jug. Taking a plate, Scully picked some grapes and nibbled on toast, still surprised when Mulder came back, a cup of coffee for her, cream, no sugar. Heaven on earth. The bacon sizzled and she put her feet up, watching the ocean in the distance. Something in the air woke her appetite and made Mulder happy he set aside his fear of crossing some invisible lines. 

He was refilling her mug when the music, quiet as it was, suddenly started to skip and crack. Scully looked up from the toast, her eyes wide. Following Mulder, she sighed in awe. Vinyl. A stack of records rested next to the turntable and she fanned them out. Mostly classic swing and jazz, 50's and 60's, the music of his parents. This must have been what made Mulder's soul and taste, before he picked up rock and roll for himself. There was Elvis there, of course, but also the Beatles and Rolling Stones. She loved classical music, but these records weren't just for show here, the covers were worn out, torn, taped together in places, in other words, loved and well used.  
She picked one of Sinatra's records and Mulder chuckled, putting it on before she changed her mind. He didn't play it from the start but picked one of the middle tracks and left her with a crooked smile. Frank teased her on his behalf, singing how she's too marvelous for words, but she saw it, for what it was, Mulder’s way of saying thank you. They finished breakfast, sitting shoulder to shoulder, enjoying the view, the music and the promise of warm day. 

A large beach towel draped over her shoulders wasn’t a very subtle way to catch her attention, but the message was clear. She nodded and smiled, agreeing with his plan, and busied herself with putting together a tiny picnic for them.  
Mulder found a spot on the couch from which he could keep an eye out, in case she needed help, or had trouble finding something in the kitchen. Not that he was staring or anything, but the book he tried to read, couldn't hold a candle to the bright sunshine throwing together a couple of sandwiches, packing fruit and ice tea, before she went upstairs to change. He didn't show her what else he found in his mother's closet, but kept it at hand, playing a hunch.  
It was amazing, how their silent pact made them aware of their surroundings and each other. He didn't think of much else which was the point, listening with his eyes and speaking in body language, expecting silent cues and side glances. The best part was realizing how much of this they already did, unconsciously. They didn't need to debate every piece of cold cuts going into their lunch, this wasn’t work, it was life. He let go of control, giving himself into her hands. If she’d frowned at the towels, instead of beaming her wonderful smile, he'd suggest going to town, sightseeing or even staying in. He'd go down to the beach alone even, happy in the knowledge, that she'd be here or somewhere close, when he got back. He always liked to have a clear center of his universe, place he felt safe, a refuge from loneliness. His room and books when he was a kid, his favorite booth in the far corner of a bar near campus in Oxford, his leather couch, Scully's hands. 

She came downstairs wearing white cotton sundress and tennis shoes. Book in one hand, sunglasses in the other, and before he gathered his thoughts, she was already out the door. Mulder grabbed the towels and followed.  
A gentle hand on her wrist stopped her and when she turned, curious and amused, a large straw hat landed on top of her head, shading her face and shoulders from the late morning sunshine. Light breeze played with the blue ribbon as she looked up, fixing the hat slightly.  
Mulder thought she looked like a dream wrapped in a million bucks, and felt the day get four degrees warmer. It was like looking at the sun, but she saved him from loosing his sight and mind, handing him the basket in exchange for the towels.  
Linking her arm through his, they fell into step side by side, and he led them down a gentle slope to a sandy beach that was hidden behind the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Let me put it this way” by Simon Armitage
> 
> Let me put it this way:  
> if you came to lay  
> your sleeping head  
> against my arm or sleeve,  
> and if my arm went dead,  
> or if I had to take my leave  
> at midnight, I should rather  
> cleave it from the joint or seam  
> than make a scene  
> or bring you round.  
> There,  
> how does that sound?


	3. Chapter 3

The water was cold, but it never really stopped him. When he came back, shivering slightly but smiling, Scully was rubbing sunscreen over her legs. She kept the straw hat on, and cerulean blue of her bikini set off her perfect skin, she was as beautiful outside as she was within.  
She saw him coming, a small towel he left behind in her hand. Mulder wiped his fece, leaving it to the sun to handle the rest, she however had a small amendment to that plan.  
As a pale redhead the sun wasn’t always her friend. Over the years a dusting of harmless freckles peppered her skin and she learned how to protect herself and others.   
With one crook of her finger Mulder was sitting back up, a curious look in his eye. He loved her face, free of makeup and skeptical stare, he’d come to her just to see it sweet and unguarded again.   
Scully didn’t just want to look at him though, before he knew a small drop of sunscreen touched the tip of his nose and he pulled back a little startled making her laugh. The look on his face as he focused on her hand hanging mid-air, a bit of white goo still on her finger, was priceless.   
He relaxed and leaned in, a shy smile in his eyes, letting her rub the cream over his nose and cheekbones, trying not to laugh at her slightly crossed eyes. Was it really so long since someone cared for him like that? Has anyone ever? Maybe his mom, before Sam vanished. He probably was eager to get away from her then. He may not have sea-legs but water always called to him strongest. And now Scully was water, and her touch wasn’t at all like his mother’s, it was practical but also sweet and innocent. Once finished she turned her back to him, a silent invitation to return the favor.  
Mulder's heart skipped a beat, catching on memories of fear and cold dark rooms, but the gentle slope of her bare shoulders was relaxed, she needed his hands, nothing else.  
He might be spooky, but he wasn’t a creep, yet she jumped slightly when he touched her, rubbing the lotion over her skin, not lingering anywhere in particular. His hands must have been colder than he thought.

They stretched out on the sand, hat partially covering her face, his trunks drying fast. Small waves tumbled over each other, the sun was kind, the breeze even kinder. A group of kids raced each other somewhere nearby, their laugh and squeals carrying, water splashing, mother’s voice trying halfheartedly to reign them in. Minutes washed away, tangled between sand, pebbles and seashells. Her pinky finger hooked around his, smile tugged at the corner of his lips. This must been what peace feels like. 

Mulder warmed up and dried off and the mom gave up on trying to tame the happy horde, when a shadow fell over him. Hat and the sunglasses landed on the towel and propped up on elbows he watched Scully step into the water. Ankle deep at first, greeting the ocean like she’d greet a big dog that hasn’t seen her in years. Like a ballet dancer, her toes cut the waves in a semi circle before going deeper. Thigh deep, cupping water in hands to wet her arms and shoulders. A few more steps farther, waves now licking her waist, she folded her arms and plunged in, letting the ocean close above her head for a second, two, three. When she resurfaced, only her head stuck out, treading water with her arms, letting her body adjust to the thermal shock. Mulder watched this ritual with fascination reserved for alien autopsies and Sasquatch sightings and she must have felt his gaze because she turned shielding her eyes to see him, then waved her fingers and disappeared.  
He sat up and watched the water. Good swimmer aside, there were things to consider, sea monsters, who knows, maybe she is a mermaid and someone down there might want her back. He couldn’t sit around and watch, the tiny competitive part of his nature wouldn’t allow that.  
She emerged fifteen yards farther pushing hair out of her face, noticed him and sank a bit deeper, hiding plyfully, swimming away but still watching. He went into the water and she started to run again. Waist deep he dived in, knowing there were shallows not far.

Scully was waiting, her feet barely touching the sand, but he misjudged the distance, they were pretty far from the shore, the swim back would be enough workout for both of them. Over the four feet of water, still silent, Mulder could see the waves climbing. She read his concern and with one arm reached out accepted the help.  
Holding on to his shoulders made all the difference and together, her chin on his shoulder, they admired the picturesque view of the island. The beach, the playing kids, strolling couples holding hands and laughing. The sun was above them, ready to make it’s descent into the sea, when a glint of sunlight caught her eye. Pointing in that direction and hugging him tighter she asked her silent question an Mulder nodded. She was right, it was their house.  
Nothing tried to eat them, no one drowned, so they got bored and raced each other back. 

Scully on her front, chin resting in the palm of her hand, straw hat taming her wavy windblown hair, reading a book with ankles crossed in the air. Who needed lunch when he could have a view like that. They ate the sandwiches, she nibbled on grapes, feeding him every fourth or fifth without looking.  
The sunlight changed color, from blaring white to softer tones of orange, it was almost 5 and Mulder was starting to think about dinner. There was a place he remembered, a fresh seafood restaurant where his parents used to take him and Sam, the closest thing to a home cooked meal he could offer and the best part was they served food to go, and they did it fast. Next time she tried to feed him and felt resistance he smiled at her patting his stomach. At first she shook her head noncommittally, but then noticed the crowd thinned out and smiled an eager yes.  
They walked home as they came, arms liked, only this time their feet were bare and their faces a little less big city pale. 

She let him take the shower first, which took him less then four minutes, and when he came back, hair only towel dried, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, he grabbed the car keys and left with a smile and a wink.  
She showered and hung the towels to dry before he got back, bags of food in hand. This time she chose the music and they ate on the deck, sharing fries and salad. She noticed his long, elegant fingers wrapped around glass, he paused as she licked a bit of sauce from her lips. Food was excellent, the white wine cool and crisp, the day’s heat began to wind down to gentle warmth of the evening.

Coffee and ice cream served for desert, Scully found her book and opened it on a page marked with a dried leave. Shoving away all creeping thoughts of the outside world, she imagined they ran away to a desert island. Still her eyes kept returning to the beach. Waves were calling her, like friends who stayed on the playground when she had to go home for dinner. The sweater felt like it was made of angels hair, soft and light and just warm enough for the weather, she wouldn’t even have to change. 

Mulder tried to pay attention to the reports of a monster living in Heuvelman’s Lake, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Scully’s arms around his neck, her freckled skin and profile shaded by the brim of a hat. Now she borrowed his old, cable-knit sweater and it hung of one shoulder, her hair tied up in a ponytail, legs propped on the chair. Photographic memory was a misleading term, but he did his best to take in every detail of this moment before she caught him staring. 

Her coffee was gone and wind picked up speed, when she looked up and took notice of the beautiful sunset. The golden hour painted everything with soft tones of yellow and orange, sun touched the tree line between the house and the ocean, hanging by a thread waiting for them to notice. Mulder looked as if he finally found something worth reading, but he could do that on Monday, they wasted enough light as it is. 

He didn’t notice her get up until she took the folder out of his hands, setting sun framing her silhouette in a gold halo, inviting smile on her face, one hand reaching out. Mulder took it and stepped over the books and files scattered over the deck. She never let go as he thought she would having his attention. Her small hand stayed in his, adjusting, fingers lacing. Her idea not his. She led him down the path to the beach, toeing off shoes as the boardwalk ended leaving only sand and sea beneath their feet. Seagulls circled the fish hidden beneath the surface, their screams were the music of his childhood evenings and hers too, probably, the navy life bound to sea.

They walked in silence, sand sliding and yielding with each step down the beach. Sun went down making itself comfortable for a nights’ rest beneath the waves, turning sky purple and navy blue, it’s colors cooling with the each hidden sunbeam.  
Finally only her warmth remained, gradually pressed into his side as the wind picked up and cold waves licked their feet. The moon was climbing the heavens in full splendor, garbed in faded white with a train of black lace, shaking stars’ hands and signing autographs.  
Scully’s arm tightened around his waist and he squeezed her shoulder, and without letting go they picked some old piece of driftwood to sit and look at the ocean.   
She dug her bare feet in the sand, watching it slip between her toes in silver cascades, feeling the damp cold just beneath the surface. This was her truth, beneath the warmth, cold waited for everyone, but in this oversized sweater and with Mulder’s arm around her, she didn’t fear the cold darkness. She pulled him closer and enjoyed the silence.

Mulder could feel her head falling over his shoulder, sun and air drained the strength from both of them. The waves were no longer small and sweet, tide gave them confidence to rise over two feet.  
Gently rubbing her back he called her away from the arms of sleep, he could be the jealous one for a few more minutes.  
Scully let him pull her to her feet and take her home, keeping them away from the waves, no one needed a cold shower this late. He picked up their shoes feeling her sway, exhaustion creeping on him as well. Stumbling into the house and up the stairs, he left her in her room and went to brush his teeth before bed.

All lights were off, ocean crashed against the shore in the distance. Half asleep, Mulder heard her go to the bathroom, running water for a minute. Sleep was calling him on some alien frequency that was apparently impossible to catch in D.C., he barely noticed the door opening. Slippers shuffling, covers were pushed back and Scully climbed in and 10 seconds later she was fast asleep, lying on one side with her back to him.  
Mulder was too tired to think and too tired to fight it, so he let it go. He survived far worse things than this.


	4. Chapter 4

They slept through the rumbling thunder, someone changed sides and landed in other’s arms, someone pulled the sheet dragging the other to move closer. Rain crawled slowly from the sea, someone turned, someone let go. Steady hum of raindrops on the roof mingled with wind whistling through windows. Pale lightning flashing in the distance went unnoticed behind their backs. Storm raged over the ocean, but in the small bedroom nobody cared. 

A clock downstairs chimed 8am. Mulder opened his eyes and was greeted by the same beautiful face. A little less pale, a little more relaxed, the image of her parted lips and palm pushed under her cheek was starting to become something worth living for. He could wake up to see this face for the next four lifetimes and still want five more.  
One hand palm up, slender fingers he held the night before. The morning haze of dream could take a lot of different shapes, and lately he had taken a habit of imagining this moment, one he was living second night in a row. Waking up next to someone he loved.  
Modell was right, they seemed awful close, but that was exactly the problem, they seemed but were not. Mulder knew that this weekend was a fluke, a gift from gods that quite possibly will come at a price, like say, the weather outside.  
The tap tap tap of rain against the windowpane washed away hope they will go to the beach again, but luckily it wasn't a really cold day. Getting up careful not to wake her, he went downstairs. 

Scully woke up in a comfortable bed between warm sheets, to the sound of rain and scent of coffee. Stretching and rolling over onto her back, she sighed like a happy cat after a solid nap. She needed the rest, to get away from everyday troubles, time when chores and obligations seemed a lifetime away. Familiar room from day before, open window, and Mulder, sitting next to her, leaning against the headboard with a pillow behind his back, pen and a magazine in hand.  
He watched her with curious amusement behind a soft smile, brushing away a strand of hair that fell over her forehead. He propped the discarded pillow next to his and showed her one of two mugs that waited on the bedside table. Coffee in bed.  
She sat up leaning head on his shoulder and took the offered mug breathing in sweet fragrance of real cream and strong coffee. Not skim milk or some powdered atrocity, real cream with fat in it. It tasted as heavenly as it did yesterday morning.  
She felt him press a kiss to the top of her head and stayed looking over his shoulder, reading the puzzle as he filled out word after word. Sometimes she took the pen out of his hand to add a word he missed, keeping her chin on his shoulder. The rain slowly stopped, a few rays of sunshine peeked through the clouds.  
The puzzle done, they sat side by side, still in complete silence. What started as a dare, now turned into a spell, neither of them dared to break. This could be their life, if they would ever give in, let go of the quest and the pain that followed it. They could talk and argue at work and come back to this, but it was a dangerous fantasy, a dangerous dream. There was too much at stake, too much work to be done. Still... 

Mulder's stomach rumbled quietly and Scully chuckled. She felt like pancakes was a good idea, but before she as much as threw back the covers, a strong arm sneaked around her waist, gently pulling her back into softness of sheets and pillows and the weight of him between them. Head on her chest and arm around hips pleading for a few more minutes like this. He must have felt it too, the end drawing near, so instead of fighting it, she pulled the sheet over his back and stroked his head slowly. Mulder was a man, but wounds of a twelve year old boy ran deeper than anyone but her could suspect. Fingers combing through hair, she recalled the ease with which he turned the gun on himself. And pulled the trigger. It could be the end, she'd probably wake from a nightmare today, instead of holding him in her arms in a comfortable bed.  
Her eyes grew wet, as they did most nights this past week, and she slipped down a little, calling him back from wherever his own thoughts wandered.  
Mulder's arm stayed around her as she cupped his cheek, traced his brow with tip of one finger, feeling the hazel green abyss looking back at the her, pulling her in. So close, one chance in five. Single tear spilled over running across the bridge of her nose and his eyes widened. He didn’t think when he drew her in, kissing the tear away, kissing her eyelids, her forehead, holding her as tightly as he could manage, as tightly as she held on to him.  
One chance in four, none of them would be here today. if the bullet hit her, he wouldn’t need to be pushed at all, he knew he’d follow right after.  
They stayed like this for long minutes, a knot of limbs and breaths and heartbeats, until her stomach growled, making them both laugh. With one last kiss on her forehead they let go and got up. 

Scully made pancakes, Mulder watched. Sipping juice as she fixed the batter, humming with Queen on the radio as the pan sizzled, filling the house with the scent of vanilla and sugar. She wore his sweater again and Mulder decided she'll take it home with her. He wanted her to have something warm that passed through his hands. They ate as fast as she could bake, sharing each pancake with two forks and one plate. The radio announced yesterday scores and he listened, smiling broadly hearing the Knicks won again. Sun was shining but wind that chased the clouds around the sky kept the day just cold enough to keep the clothes on and go for a long walk. 

They walked down the beach, shoes in hand, arm around shoulders, hand on hip. Small pools of water were cut away from the sea, surprisingly warm as she dipped her feet. He knelt and rolled up her pants above ankles, taking her hand so she could walk through water. The birds chattered, the waves crashed, a steady beat that set the rhythm of their hearts. 

Mulder's mind wandered to the few days of his happy childhood, days of building sandcastles with Sam, splashing water, running around, squealing delight, but also to days long after, when he came here alone. Mother bringing him to the Vineyard for a few days to get away from father. She kept her grief inside the house, Mulder ran from her to the beach, trying to imagine what his life would look like. Would he have a lot of friends, bonfires on the beach, drinking beer and stealing kisses from girls? What Scully's youth looked like, did she do those things, what it was like to have sister and brothers and parents who cared...  
Lost in thought he missed the moment she yanked at his hand making him stumble one step too deep in water. Jeans soaked knee high he grinned mischievously, caught and lifted her into his arms, as if about to throw her in, good old tit for tat. She felt his plan and braced herself, arms locked around his neck. Yet he didn't drop her but walked away from the pools and set her down on the wide stretch of sand. No more splashing and no more mopping thoughts.  
Taking her hand and swinging it lightly he noticed they were approaching the lighthouse, the restaurant and lunchtime.


	5. Chapter 5

When she looked through the menu, an unexpected perk of their silent agreement came to her attention. Mulder wasn't supposed to talk, so he couldn't comment (read: gloat) when she ordered a big fat burger with fries and a chocolate milkshake. And to be hones, he didn't have to, his broad smile said it all. Something about the air made them both hungry, for food, for life, and somewhere deep down for each other.  
At one point a baseball rolled right under Mulder's feet, followed by a lively toddler, crawling under his chair after it. The boy smiled his incomplete smile and ran back to his parents, who nodded at them from a distance.  
Scully smiled at the couple and glancing at Mulder, noticed his eyes cast down, small smile tugging at his lips. Sometimes she wondered, if this was something he wanted, kids, family, or did he burry those thoughts, filing them under S for Someday. There was a time, a lifetime ago, she thought she might want that. It was one of those dangerous avenues of her mind, the frightening suburbs with their perfect houses, lawns and cars. What would happen the day they got all the answers, what would happen to her if he decide to take that step leaving her behind?  
Mulder noticed something change in her eyes, was it a crease on her forehead, a sideways glance, she was shielding her thoughts as you’d shield a flame in the wind and he could sense her drifting away. So he did what any other sane man would do, he stole her drink and took a long, teasing sip from it. Of course it was good, and of course her hand sprang up to take it back, and when he let go and she took the straw between her lips, he thought about middle-school dates, laughing at himself and the childish move. Like it or not, it worked, she stole his fries in return and again all was good with the world. 

After lunch they visited the lighthouse. Gallery deck was open to the public for a few hours every day and to whoever dared climb the dizzying steps, it offered a stunning view of the ocean.  
They stood by the railing admiring the vast expanse of water, counting ships in the distance. The horizon was a study in contrasts, dark shadow of rain that seemed to connect the clouds with water on one hand, sunlight piercing the clouds like God’s spotlight searching for something in the deep on the other. Waves crashed below their feet, as if the stone wall did them wrong, heavy blanket of clouds changed and flowed, chasing the waves in a constant tug-off war between up and down.  
50 feet above the ground wind tore through layers of clothes, playing with Scully's hair like a five year old hairdresser. Shivers down her spine had nothing to do with pleasure, until she felt Mulder step behind her, his arms around her, shielding and sharing warmth as much he could. Each time they touched made her feel more at ease around him, and the softest kiss on her cheek whispered that she wasn’t the only one.

Once Mulder stopped thinking about the why-s, what-if-s and but-s, the silence came with remarkable ease. He didn’t want to think of consequences of waking up next to each other, of keeping his arms around her in a way reserved for lovers, of the way her breast pressed against his arm, chin on his shoulder, the proximity she would never allow knowing he’d ask ‘what next’. He wanted to feel, live this dream a moment longer, a day, a week. A life without questions, not between them at least. For a day or two, he wanted to be certain of the connection between them and lay his confidence in her small hand. Once he did that, he didn’t have to say anything, he just did things, and waited for her to draw a line. Following her lead and trusting she wouldn’t abuse his trust, make him do something they might feel bad about.  
He kissed her cheek and waited for her to turn away. She never did, only covered his hand with hers, leaning deeper into his embrace.  
He bought her a straw hat with a wide blue satin ribbon around the brim the size of Maine and they walked home through town, holding hands.

Leaving him asleep on the couch after dinner, Scully went to the beach alone. Was it really Monday tomorrow? Were they really going back to DC in less than 24 hours? Slowly it dawned on her that she didn’t want this to end, didn’t want to let go of the peaceful feeling she let in with the hum of waves. The ocean breathed for her and its’ rhythm soothed her soul, letting her see her life through a different lens. A life they could share. They would never give up the search, work was a part of them and without it, they wouldn't be the two people who came here, bruised and battered, emotionally frayed. She knew his hurt and he knew her pain, they didn't need to explain why they called for each other at night, fighting nightmares. But they could have these little escapes, there could be more between them than pain. She slept on his shoulder on stakeouts, he leaned on her on planes. When he was sick she knew it first, when she was on her period he stopped crunching seeds. It wasn't just convenience, they had a life and they shared it for a couple of years now. Still, they denied each other comfort. His arms around her at night, morning coffee and a newspaper, shared breakfast, late lunch. Even doing absolutely nothing, time they shared didn't feel wasted. A voice inside reminded her of the little things she kept under wraps, his hips between her thighs as she held on to him, his hands on her legs keeping her close. The way they woke up, how she scolded herself for wanting to kiss him. 

Mulder woke up to an empty house, warm under a blanket Scully must have draped over him before she went out. So this is what it felt like when someone took care of you. He wished he’d wake up with her cuddled into his side but, as the old classic reminded him quietly from the corner of the room, you can’t always get what you want.  
There was something about letting yourself be reckless. The recklessness of two people who must face their differences day after day, with no place to run or hide, only a desk between them keeping the personal and professional apart.  
Still, when he watched her, her face mirrored his happiness. 

 

She turned around at some point, retracing her own steps following fantom footprints washed away by waves, letting go of anxious Monday thoughts and opening herself to nature taking in the peace again. Bright orange sun, bathing the beach in gold glow, the freedom and calm. And she knew she was approaching home, when she noticed a man sitting on a piece of driftwood eating ice cream straight from a tub.  
Mulder saw her and his face lit up the way he looked when he saw she was alright. Maybe a week ago, she'd keep the sensible 8 inches between them, but today she leaned into his side taking the offered half-full tub with a spoon pushed inside.  
One arm hooked through his, they shared the ice cream, Mulder eating from her hand. Silently watching the sun patiently walk to the other side of the world. 

She fed him the last spoonful of ice cream when their eyes locked. The playful look she expected turned serious as she withdrew her hand and his eyes never left hers. He licked his lips and she glanced at the glistening plump lip and perfect cupids bow that waited to pierce her heart since the first time she saw it. Inch after inch, the distance between them shrinking, Mulder leaned over cupping her cheek, waiting for her to stop him. If you try sometimes, you'll get what you need, and he needed her, he needed her like air to breath, sun to warm and water to live.  
Scully closed her eyes waiting for the orange glow to turn dark. His lips were soft, soft as his kiss that morning, feather pillows and marshmallows. He kissed her gently, slowly, with caution of someone who finally convince a kitten to come close enough to touch, not daring to scare it away with careless rush. She dared though, lips parted, hand on her hip didn’t startle, she got used to his hands, more and more over the weekend, and now she wanted him to touch her. Just as she wanted to thread fingers through fine hair on the nape of his neck, feel his pulse racing like hers. He tasted like creamy chocolate, cool and sweet and she drew him closer, deepening the kiss stepping onto the path he opened.  
The empty box hit the sand and she climbed in his lap, to pretend she didn't want this would be the lowest of lies. The tree beneath them rocked and she giggled into his mouth, hands roaming her back tightened, she felt him shift, digging in his heels for balance. This was crazy of the best kind. Her breasts pressed against his chest, ass perfect for his hands, was she light as a feather or did he find some new source of strength, his head was swimming, he needed to breathe.  
Mulder broke the kiss but held her close, with her forehead against his they shared the breeze. Scully kissed his lips softly, time after time, kissing the kiss away as the sun went down. 

Searching her face, he tried to spot some sign that this was a one time thing, a lapse in judgment, but he found none. She got up, hand reaching for his, and good because he wasn't sure if he could stand up or would float away if she didn't hold him to the ground.  
His world was shaking, the continents collided. He began to believe that evolution was not gradual but moved in leaps, the new trampling the old in it's path. Scully's hands never failed him, never did him any harm. Well, except that one time she shot him, the wound hurt when it rained sometimes, but it rained last night and he never felt a thing, except her in his arms. She was the cure for his mind, body and soul. Puling him up the path, dazed and confused, drunk on her kiss, drunk on her laugh, all he could see was the orange sunset in her bare shoulder. 

The patio door was ajar, they fell on the couch, kissing again, all greedy hands. Her kisses answered his questions before he could ask them. She was so sure, sure for the both of them when she pulled her sweater over her head, pressing her breasts into his hands. Squeezing them gently, then firmly, until he felt her moan in his mouth. No dainty flower this one, heaven under a plain cotton tank-top.  
Hands closing again, slower this time, kneading her flesh, made her hips grind to a halt. She read his words, _slow down, stay true_. Her hair smelled of ocean and salt, wind kissed skin under his tongue, her throat bared, fingers on his scalp guiding him, _here, stay here, that's the spot_. Hips moved against his crotch, maddeningly slow and with real pain Mulder untangled her hands from around his neck.  
She looked hurt for a second, before he kissed her fingers and knuckles, making her read the signs right. She kept his hands and stood up, placing them on her belt, it was his choice from now on, up or down.  
Knowing his patience would be rewarded, starting at her hips he rolled her top up, kissing exposed skin, inch by inch, faint pink lines cut with white where the strings of her swim suit covered skin from sun's burning lips. Mulder's kiss was a balm, and as for a bra, she wore none.  
Wonderfull breasts peeked from under the top, perfectly leveled with his mouth, asking to be teased, circled with just the tip of his tongue. She pulled the top off the rest of the way, letting it fall to the ground, as Mulder caressed her bare back, kissing an infinity sign from one cherry nipple to the other, taking his time.  
On his third trip down her back, the coarse edge of jeans almost burned his hand. One kiss over her heart before he looked up, the belt buckle clicked softly, a well worn and loved sound, then buttons popped through holes. He could feel her hot against the fingers he slipped between the fabric. He wanted to do this slow, but the look of held back desire pushed him forward.  
Mulder slipped his hands inside her panties, feeling the curve of her ass, firm and round, then pushed her clothes down. Scully, having kicked of her shoes earlier, her small bare feet softened with saltwater and sand, stepped out of her jeans, kicking them aside, naked as the day she was born. She was beautiful yesterday, but tonight, she was the living proof that God existed and cared about one humble half-jewish half-atheist Fox Mulder, age 35. 

Was she nervous? No, not at all. Men from before took her clothes of with their eyes closed, quick to get away with the bothersome hindrance of lace and cotton. Mulder watched her, explored, his curiosity turned at her was a thousand times stronger and focused than what she saw through the wildest of cases.  
Was it the slowed down pace, was it the relaxed atmosphere that surrounded them over the weekend, his kisses were gentle but sure, he nibbled here, scratched there, he was learning her textures, reactions, the language of her. The Book Of Scully, Prologue, The Hidden Places. Still, she had her own book to write.  
With a one crook of her finger he was back on his feet, towering over her, his sweater already going up and away revealing toned muscle and soft chest hair. The scar on his shoulder, her mark, his forgiveness. She kissed the wound and his arm went around her, a comfort, reminder. She shot him, they ran, then he vanished, she had dreams from back then.  
Now she felt him real, skin on skin, almost as close as two people can be, feeling erection pressed against her stomach, cold steel of his belt and jeans restraining it. This was her truth, her new now. He guided her palm to his belt, a silent plea to end his agony, and who was she to deny him.  
Once freed, she smiled at the sheer size of him, she was a doctor, but that made her feel really unprofessional, wet and hot and distinctly feminine. Scully wrapped one hand around him and circled the tip with her thumb, watching his eyes roll back inside his skull, he tried to steady himself but she pushed him gently, making him sit down. Mulder caught himself just in time not to hurt anything, but his faint protest was silenced by the image of Scully sucking on her thumb, the thumb that a second ago wiped the pre cum from the tip of his cock. 

A sobering thought passed through his mind. They had no protection, but Scully already did her mental math, as a woman, a doctor and a responsible adult. With a reassuring smile she sat in his lap and captured his lips again, asking for trust.  
Mulder closed his arms around her, kissing her time and time again, lips and cheeks, neck and shoulder, feeling her wet on the tips of his fingers.  
She guided him inside, needing to feel that beautiful cock inside her, filling and stretching. She wanted him. 

When he felt her hand back around his shaft and then the wet heat of her core swallowing him inch after glorious inch, time stopped. Her body leaned back, he could see them joined, the flushed skin, her small pebbled nipples, breast heaving, panting. She looked like a bow stretched and ready, and he ghosted is fingers down her throat, sternum, flat planes of her belly, all the way down to the place they were joined. One arm around her back for balance he leaned over her, slowly kissing her breasts, making love to them, soft lips agains soft flesh, and when her hips jerked, slick wetness abound, he pressed on her clit, slipping to one side. He coaxed a first sound out of her in two days, a surprised cry, and it filled him with power, power to see her through and deny himself release before she could come.  
Her hips rocked, hands digging into his knees as he sucked and licked, fingers circling her clit. Breathless moans where his waves, her scent his air, her flushed skin his sunrise and sunset. She was his life. 

Scully sat up, her arms giving up, and curled herself around him, making him lean back, trapping his hand between them, still busy sending jolts of electricity up and down her spine. The pressure changed, he was feeling it too now, her walls clenching, hot breath on his neck, teeth pinching his earlobe, a breathy path to his lips, and then her tongue in his mouth, stealing his breath. _Take that Bruckman, auto-erotic my ass, if I should go, let it be like this, let her be the death of me._ Yet he never felt more alive, heart racing, her hair brushing his cheeks, hands trying to pull him into her, to mold them together. Their pace was frantic, hurricane Scully was ready to blow his head off, he couldn't hold back anymore. With one swift push of his thumb, like a breaker, he thrown her over the edge and followed her down, screaming his incoherent ecstasy into the dark sky. 

The sun went down and warm glow became a silver shine. They fell on the couch, no longer joined but still holding tight. He pulled the blanket over them, exhaustion crawling through their veins, clouding all thought. Her kisses were lazy now, as were her hands. There would't be any question who sleeps where tonight. Or any night for that matter, if anyone bothers to ask. Scully's hands slowed to a halt, her breathing deepened. She was floating away to a faraway dreamland. There wouldn't be any screams tonight, unless those of pleasure, if the gods allow. 

Mulder woke up first, sun shining outside the window was trying to make them stay one more day. Their flight was at noon, but flights could be canceled.  
Scully stirred, hiding her face in his embrace, away from the light. Her skin was a marvel and he couldn't get enough, he stroked her back, calling her back.  
"Good morning" he whispered, hearing his own voice for the first time in days.  
"Hi" she sighed and pressed her lips to the closest patch of skin. God bless her, his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> part of Leiascully's October Fic Fest  
> With this story I passed a milestone in writing, so thank you for all the visits, kudos, comments and general encouragement over the last year. You, Dear Reader, mean the world to me and I wouldn't have done it without you.  
> Thank you, from the bottom of my fluffy heart.


End file.
